Happy 55th Hunger Games !
by Hannami14
Summary: It's been fifty-five years since the revolt of the District 13 has failed.  "You do that just to make me feel sorry for you. So I'll spare you in the Arena." "No. I know you will kill me when the time comes and you will not hesitate. Even for a second."
1. The Reaping

_Heck!

I move away quickly from the burning stove where three eggs continue to fry. I bit my lip, holding back a moan. A red burn mark begins to appear on my forearm. I have never burned myself before. Not while cooking. I pass my arm under the thin stream of water that slowly flows from the tap. I gaspe with pleasure when the pain attenuates a bit.

_It's of ill omen, I mumbled.  
>_What is of ill omen ?<br>I jump when I hear my brother's voice sounded behind me.  
>_Nothing. I have just burn me, I answer while dragging the wriggling eggs from the pan to the plate.<p>

Clael yawns, scratches his neck and sits down. My brother does this every morning. He does not even wait for the breakfast to cool and devours everything in less than ten seconds.  
>I take care of the house since my mother's accident that cost her the loss of her left arm and three fingers of her right hand. She was swept away by a machine to separate the grain. This kind of thing happens often in District Eleven. We are used to it. It is even a chance she had survived. Carrying out the maintenance of our small farm does not bother me. I like cooking and doing housework. This allows me to forget the world we live in.<br>My father and mother enter the kitchen. Their faces are contrite with anguish. My mother has trouble lifting her cup of tea, her two fingers do not stop shaking. Seeing them like that makes me feel uneasy and worries me even more.

_Do not worry, I say, my name is not registered many times. I have never taken any tesserae. This is Clael who took all the risks, he never went to the Arena and he is safe now.  
>It seems to relax them a little. My father even allow himself to smile.<br>_You are right. We are not the most to be pitied. I heard that some kids of thirteen or fourteen had their names written sixteen times.  
>My mother agrees. But the slight warming of atmosphere falls back when I rid the plates and begin to disentangle my too long hair with the old wooden comb. I tie them into a ponytail, as I always do, and put on a dress not too small yet.<br>_I am going to go, I say in little voice, I have to go find Perry and Tama. I see you on the spot.

I feel that my mother wants to hold me back but she does not do it. So I'm going. The atmosphere of the house was becoming unbearable. I needed fresh air.  
>The Reaping takes place, as every year, at the central square. I do not know how many times I saw weeping faces as they stood on the stage. Each time, I knew it was a face I would never see again and that the Capitol would broadcast again and again their death on television. I hate it. Or rather, I do not understand it. Sometimes, children of twelve years old are killed so horribly that I have nightmares for weeks.<br>Perry and Tama are waiting patiently in the shade of the big pine. They shake their hand lightly on my approach. Tama and Perry are my closest friends. We had known eachothers during my first Reaping. Tama saw her older sister sent to the Arena that year. I think she clung to the closest thing to her to avoid her from falling. It turned out that this thing was me. She cried while remaining attached to my shirt as I didn't dare moving. Perry, who was a neighbor of Tama, had fetch her parents. I really do not know how but from that day, we became inseparable.

_You are tense, my friend says.  
>_Yes. Who would not ?<br>She nodded in silence. Perry cracked his neck. He always does it when he is distressed.  
>_We're going ?<br>We walk in the dust watching the golden fields of wheat. The ears are swaying slowly in the morning wind gorging itselves with sun. My heart sinks suddenly. I do not want to think that I may never see these fields again. This perspective disgusts me.  
>The central square of the small village is empty. It is still a little early. But it will fill up. Soon, I know that tears, sniffles and cries will dismay all the space and prevent me from breathing. But I know I would feel reassured by that crowd who will share the same emotions as me, the same fears and the same worries.<br>Peacekeepers hustle us unceremoniously. They did not even give a look. We are worse than vermin for them. I hung on Perry's shirt to keep me from falling. My legs are unsteady.

_Elia, are you okay? He worries, helping me getting up.  
>_Yes, yes. They surprised me, I answer with a tight smile.<br>I look to them, busied installing the parks where we will be lined up like animals ready for slaughter. They connect a microphone. They grab and put three chairs in the center of the platform. The two huge glass balls containing our names shine under the sun. Their happy faces when everything is in place makes me want to vomit. I suddenly want to spit on them. But I will never have the courage. Or madness.  
>The onlookers begin to arrive. Families are separated from their children with anxious glances, affectionate gestures and loving words. They line up quietly in their designated area. Twelve years old children are horribly tense. This is normal, I was like their age but I think I have not really changed. Even if I try to look calm to relax the other, my throat is chocked with fear.<p>

I see my brother and my parents who smile at me sadly. Only Clael is raising his two thumbs up, offering me the encouraging smile he has the secret of. I send them a a strong sign of hand while trying to look serene. I grab Tama's hand and we slip in a row of girls of sixteen. Perry looks at us with a determined look and disappears in the park of eighteen boys. I'm glad it is his last year. After today, everything would be okay for him. I envy him and the though of it make me feel ashamed.  
>Tama's palm becomes moist and she starts to shake when Fulia Maylord gets on the platform. She is the woman in charge of District Eleven for Hunger Games. She is only here for two years. Before it was a man whose name escapes me. I do not know what has happened to him but I preferred his playful tone to the dreary one of Fulia. The tired voice of the hostess makes me want to scream. I hate her streaked face with black tattoos and electric blue ones. Her blonde hair, almost white are reassembled into a sort of tower on the top of her head. I find her a stupid look though she wants to appear refined. I will never understand the Capitol's taste in clothes and beauty.<br>I tightens a little my friend's hand and smile to her.

_Everything will be alright. I promise you. Your name will not be chosen.  
>She gulps, trembling. Tama is traumatized since her sister was reaped. I will never forget her distress that day.<br>_Come on ! I whisper, it's going to be fine.  
>My friend slides a lock of her jet-black hair behind her ear with a feverish hand.<br>The mayor begins his interminable speech of repentance, as to justify the fact that two of us would die before the eyes of their parents. He states the list of winners of District Eleven on Hunger Games. It's simple, there is only one name. Seeder Redfern, the winner of the thirtieth Hunger Game at the age of fifteen. While she sits on one of the three chairs, next to the mayor, she looks at the crowd extending under her feet with her golden eyes. She knows the horror of the Games and yet her face still shows the same gentle and concerned expression.  
>Fulia Maylord advances on the front of the dais.<p>

_Happy Fifty-fifth Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favor.  
>She says those words in a spiritless voice. As if she did that every day. I can not help thinking that this would be a funny and strange routine to send teenagers get slaughtered. The hostess approached slowly the huge transparent ball containing the names of the district's girls.<p>

_Ladies first, I guess.  
>The girl on my left begins to breathe loudly while trying to restrain her groans of panic. She is pale as a sheet. I would like to take her hand too but I'm afraid of frightening her more. I take it anyway. Her fingers clings to my palm so strongly that I feel like she will tear my arm apart. But I do not let go. She whispers something I do not understand. I smile and gently press her hand.<br>Fulia tries to generate a kind of silly suspense as her hand rounds and rounds without stopping as in slow motion among the thousands small white papers. The inhabitants of the Capitol must be very bored before that pitiful spectacle.  
>She finally chooses one and unfolds slowly.<p>

Tama and the girl's hands shake mine simultaneously. All the girls are holding their breath. The smell of sweat makes me wince. I want to dry my brow but I'm too scared to let go of the hands of Tama and the girl. Also, I am not sure of being able to extricate from their firm and desperate grip.  
>_Elia Nettles? Called Fulia Maylord with her drawled voice.<br>I had not lied to Tama. Her name had not been picked.  
>It was mine.<p>

Hello ! Thanks for reading my story. It's the first about Hunger Games.

My English is not very good so please tell me about my mistakes and if someone wants to be my beta-reader, I would be glad to accept his help !


	2. The Odds Are Not In His Favor

For a moment nothing happens.  
>Fulia Maylord continues to call the name of Eila Nettles but nobody moves. Suddenly, two Peacekeepers show up out of nowhere and grab a girl in the park of girls of sixteen. But they are struggling to lift her. I can not see well. I stand on my tiptoe to be able to see above the sea of heads. The girl is pale and two other teenagers held her firmly by the arm. They scream when Eila is carried by both Peacekeepers who throw her squarely on the scene. She finally seems to realize what is happening to her and her knees begin to tremble. Her eyes are looking for someone. They eventually settled on a boy a few rows ahead of me. I know him, it's Perry Sunbay. From where I am I see his face twisted into an expression that makes me shudder.<p>

"A Voluntary?" Fulia asks while adjusting her tailor.  
>There is movement in the ranks of families.<br>"Somebody! Anybody! I beg you!" Yells a young man, "it's my sister!"  
>But no one volunteered. Eila watches her brother and sends him a desperate smile behind her tears. In the crowd, I hear a girl crying. Four Peacekeepers take along the struggling boy while he shouts insults.<br>"No one so. Now the boy."  
>Fulia stirs in the jar as if she moved a soup. But I do not watch her. My eyes are on this poor girl who tries to keep herself in countenance. I do not really know Eila. Just from view. I have never spoked to her, not once. I do not even appreciate her. I hate her big hazel eyes that always seem to smile. She seems so sweet and accommodating that it gets on my nerves. I do not like weak girls. Yet I can not help thinking that it's unfair that it's her, standing here. She can not fight. She will die in three minutes. And I am optimistic.<p>

"Faun Deeprain."  
>I am struck by lightning. It's me. I feel stupid, turning my feverishly head as to see if anyone was going to take my place. But when I see four Peacekeepers heading toward me, I blow and get close to the platform. I climb the stairs with heavy steps. The sun beats down on my back. I can't breath well. I am not feeling good. My head is spinning. I think I'm going to faint.<br>A warm hand slippes into mine. I do not even try to remove it because I know it's just this contact that keeps me from collapsing.  
>The hostess asks if there are any volunteers. At this point I still hope. But I know no one will replace me.<br>"How old are you?" Fulia Maylord asks us, trying to sound concerned but no one is fooled.  
>"I'm sixteen," Eila answers in a hoarse and trembling voice<br>"Eighteen."  
>This is unfair. It was my last year. Tears of rage brun my eyes but I hold them back.<p>

The mayor begins to read the treatise of Treason. I do not listen. Besides, who would, in my place? I focus only on Eila's hand wich hold mine tightly. I look at the horizon and the grain fields. They have never appeared to me as beautiful. I glance at Eila. She looks at Perry, her family and a girl I've seen a few times with them. Her eyebrows are frowned and her cheeks are streaked with tears. She sniffs and wipes her eyes discreetly with her other hand. She forces herself to smile but the result is a little scary. She notices it on the giant screen and stops immediately.  
>"Are you afraid?" I asks quietly.<br>"No", She whispers.  
>Her answer surprises me. I raise my eyebrows. She hisses without looking at me.<p>

"Why should I be scared? I am going to die anyway."  
>It makes me angry. So, she will not even try? I would like to withdraw my hand but I know I would not have the courage to stand.<br>"I hate people like you," I spit.  
>"Realistic people?" she asks with a smile.<br>It leaves me speechless. I do not know what to say because I know that deep down, she's right. But I can not help but blame her.

We are asked to shake our hands, what I find stupid because it's what we do for more than twenty minutes. We put ourselves face to face. Her sad eyes still smile. I want to slap her.  
>I look at the crowd as the anthem of Panem sounds. I do not know what I'd give to be drawn into them. For someone else to take my place on this stage. Hold the hand of this girl in my place. Died in my place. Anything, I think. Anything that can save my life.<br>I look at my family. The music stops. Peacekeepers arrive beside us. They grab us firmly and pull us to the Hotel of Justice. I am separated from Eila. I am relieved not to have to watch her.  
>I am locked alone in a room. I have never entered the Hotel of Justice. Rays of sunlight are filtered through fine unbleached draps. There is a beige sofa in the center of the room. I slumped on it. My legs no longer hold my body. I do not know how I managed to stay upright. Oh yes, Eila's hand.<p>

My parents enter, followed by my elder brother and sister. We stare at each others in the eyes. My mother throws herself into my arms, sobbing.  
>"My boy. My little boy in the Arena," she chokes.<br>My sister and my brother hug me. Kailica starts crying and Herbond clenches his jaws. My father looks at me with a stern look.  
>"Don't forget," he says, "do not forget why you're going to fight. You fight to get home. You do not fight to save the world. You do not fight to save anyone. Do not trust anyone. In the Arena, there's you and only you. No friends, no allies. No one to trust. They will all try to kill you. There is only one possible option. You come home alive."<br>And with that, he takes me in his arms. I remain straight as an i, not daring to make the slightest gesture. I love my family and I know they love me too but my father had never hugged me. I do not really know how to react.  
>"Faun, listen to me. I've teach you everything I know. You know how to fight. You know what to eat. Do not let them underestimate you."<br>I nod, gravely.  
>"We love you. Don't ever forget that. We will wait for your return. We will hope."<p>

My mother huddles her head against my shoulder and continues to cry. I try my best not to imitate her but I evetually shed a few tears. I am immediately ashamed. But nobody cares. Kailica has just enough time to give me a kiss on the cheek before the Peacekeepers throw them out, slamming the door behind them. I want to scream. I felt like smashing everything. Windows, furniture and most of all this beige sofa. I do not know what he did to me but an animal instinct tells me to disembowel it. I only restrain myself from doing it because someone comes.  
>It is Clael Nettles.<br>He walks right over me and grabs me by the shoulders.  
>"If you kill my sister and survives, believe me, I am going to make you suffer. You will beg me to send you back to the Arena. On your knees, you will ask me to kill you. And I would. After torturing you until I get tired."<br>He throws me back. I stagger but keep my balance. Clael collapses on the couch and buries his head between his palms. His hands are streaked with scars because of his work in the fields. The same as mine.  
>"She is my little sister," he begins, "She is so kind. She would not even hurt a fly."<br>He has a bitter laugh.  
>"She wouldn't survive. Do you understand?" He asks me as he looks at me with piercing eyes.<br>I nod.  
>"Do not kill her. I beg you."<br>I do not know what to say. I can not promise him. I also have to think about my survival. How can he ask me that? I feel a dull anger boiling in me.  
>"I will not kill her," I snape acidly, "someone else will. We will be twenty-four, a career will eventually do it."<br>I look at him defiantly. Clael clenches his jaws. He gets up and without warning, sent me his right fist right in the face.

"Don't ever talk about my sister like that. I could kill you, right now. But I'd rather see you die in the Arena. And who knows? Maybe it's Eila who will take your life."  
>He does not even wait for the Peacekeepers to come back. He leaves the room after spitting at my feet. I touch my cheek. It is painful. I'll have a bruise and it will swell. It hurts but I don't let see the pain on my face.<br>A timid knock-knock makes me look up. I recognize Eila's friend, the one that has grabbed her arm to stop the Peacekeepers. I do not know her name. She has black hair and tanned skin because of the sun. She advances, embarrassed.  
>"I am Tama. Eila's friend. You do not know me but I wanted to give you that. To bring you luck."<br>She hands me a bracelet done with braided and dried ears of corn. I accept it and attach the bracelet on my wrist.  
>"I gave the same to Eila," she explaines me, "You have the right to have a token, something to remind you of your District when we will be in the Arena."<br>"Unless this item could be used as a weapon."  
>"If you ever manage to strangle someone with that bracelet, I'll take my hat off."<br>I can not help smiling. Tama goes away without saying another word. But I think she leaves to cry.

Peacekeepers turn up, grab me and in less time than it takes to say, I'm in a car. I arrive at the station. It's hot, the smell of sweat saturates the place and the hall is packed. Eila joins me. I expected to see her weep buckets or be depressed but I am surprised to see that her face has color again and she smiles like a fool. I look at the giant screen. She is innocent and resplendent compared to me who looks like a hick with my matted hair and my dull and bloated face because of Clael's fist. If you pay attention to it, you can even see that my eyes are slightly swollen. I hate Eila even more. Her strategy has began.

They make us wait a moment, to offer our faces to the cameras that seem to really enjoy filming two confused and frightened teenagers though they try not to show it. Eventually, someone shove us in the train. It starts fast and picks up speed. Eila has her eyes wide open and looks at the passing scenery through the window with an astonished air. Besides being weak, she is also stupid. Great. It was true that we don't see trains everyday, so get into it ... But still. It was not a reason to offer her gladdened fool face when she was going to be sliced in the coming weeks.

I notice Fulia who shows me my compartment without a word. It is so beautiful that I want to destroy everything. There is hot water, funny and weird jets in the shower and overflowing dressers with clothes. I guess I can use it. I take a cold shower. No way I would take a hot one. At home, it's cold and that's all there is to it. I throw my reeking clothes of sweat in a corner and put on clean ones. A pair of jeans and a linen shirt. They smell clean and seem to be new. I have always used the old clothes of my brother. It's weird to wear something new.

I go into the dining room and put more than ten minutes to find it. These stupid compartments are bigger than my house. I think it's stupid and useless. Eila is installed at the table where the meal is not ready yet. She also has showered her long brown hair which start curling.  
>"Fulia and Seeder are not there yet?<br>She blenches when she hears my voice. She did not even hear me coming. What a pain, it was not even careful. Unless this is her strategy to fool everybody by impersonate for a perfect and happy idiot. I am becoming paranoid. She was not smart enough for that.  
>"I have not seen Fulia. Seeder arrives, I think."<br>I sit in front of her. Her bright eyes settle on me.  
>"I already miss the fields. And say that I probably never see them again...<br>I glare at her.  
>"You say that to make me feel sorry for you. So I'll spare you in the Arena," I said, dryly.<br>She tilts her head to one side, puzzled.  
>"No. I know you will kill me if the opportunity arises. And you will not hesitate. Not even a second."<br>A gentle smile splits her peaceful face.  
>I can not repress a shudder. What she just said, how she said it, it's scary.<br>I realize that Eila Nettles is perhaps not as stupid as she seems.

Thank you for reading my story. I tried to make it a little more easy to read. If you see grammar, conjugation mistakes, tell me.


	3. On The Train

I see my frightened face dance on the screen. I am livid and my eyes are lost in the nothingness. I do not remember having been dragged on the stage by the Peacekeepers. Tama's yellings are breaking my heart. I look at my arms. The burn made with the pan, it seems that it happened to me in an another life. My flesh is streaked with scratches and nail marks. In some areas of my skin, the dried blood flake off. It didn't hurt me when my friend and the other girl have tried to hold me back but now, every time I touch the wounds, painful tingling made me wince. The frightened girl on the screen, it's not me. I can not believe it was and is me. I do not recognize myself. What happens to her does not happen to me. I'm not on that train. I'm home at dinner with my family. We enjoy the meal I prepared, and we celebrate the fact that I have not been drawn.  
>But the shaking compartment brings me back to my senses.<br>I cast a glance at Faun, who fixes the screen too. He looks at himself, climbing on the platform, his face is sallowed and he has a crestfallen expression. I see in his eyes that he does not like this image of himself. And who can blame him? A horrible bruise distorts his face. His cheekbone is swollen and he have to keep his eyelid closed-set. He didn't have it at the Reaping. I would like to ask him what have happenned to him but I don't dare to.

He catches me looking at him. His dark eyes watch me. I do not know since when we are staring at each other but I quiver when Seeder turns off television. We have just missed the tributes from District Twelve. Anyway, they must not be more brave than us.  
>"So what have you learned?" Our mentor asks us.<br>I do not really know what to say but Faun answers tit for tat before I could open my mouth.  
>"It is simple," he says, "if we do not die on the first day, well, it will be on the second."<br>When I have said the same thing earlier in the day, he told me that he hated me and I'm sure that he bears a grudge against me. But now, he has decided that we were not able to do it.  
>"I hate people like you," I whisper repeating exactly his words.<br>I think he'll get up and strangle me. But he does nothing.  
>"And what makes you think that way?" Seeder asks him.<br>"What makes me think that way? Well, the list goes on."  
>"Start by the beggining," she encourages Faun.<br>"Alabastair, the Tribute from District Two. He makes, at least, two meters, he is as big as a bull and his arms are three times my thighs. If he bumps into me, I am dead meat. So you are, Eila."  
>This statement hurts me to the quick although I know it is true.<br>"He is tall and fat, therefore, it will be more difficult for him to hide, climb in the trees, it's also possible that he is not very fast or very agile," I say.  
>"Exactly," Seeder approves.<p>

"And what do you do with these two kids from District One? The twins of twelve. They seems to be nasty, petty-minded and ruthless. Have you seen the girl's eyes? And the boy's smile? They do not even look human. They are robots. Robots programmed to destroy us. And they, they are small, thin and muscular. I'm sure they're fast and agile. They will not hesitate to kill each other to win."  
>"But if they are confronted by Alabastair, he will crush them in less than two seconds. They may be muscular but they will be weaker, much weaker than this kind of ogre."<br>Seeder nods, a smile on her lips.  
>"And Eider? Eider Foawave, the boy from District Four? He is neither too big nor too small, he is muscular and he looks confident and determined. And given his physique, he will have no trouble getting sponsors. I would hedge my bets that he can swim while we do not."<br>"Maybe he is not intelligent. And who told you I can not swim?"  
>Faun looks at me with astonishment and curiosity. This is the first time I see him being surprised.<br>"You can swim?"  
>I prefer not to answer him. And fortunately, the dishes arrive. Luckily, I was getting hungry. Faun forgets his question as soon as someone places a plate garnished with tomatoes, cheese, eggs, corn and other ingredients before him.<p>

"Wahou," he whispers, "Well, I would have had, at least, a real meal before dying. What is that thing?"  
>He takes a slice of vegetable as green as the grass of the meadows in spring with the end of his fork.<br>"A cucumber, I say, you had never eaten one?"  
>"No. You yes maybe?" He snapes with a sharp voice.<br>"Once."  
>Faun glares at me. He must think I'm trying to belittle him, to make him look like an idiot in front Seeder, but it's wrong.<br>My own plate arrives. The amount of food makes me dizzy. At home I often eat my fill. It's rare that I am hungry but I had never eaten all by myself if only a third of this plate. I don't dare to think what it means for Faun. He and his family are very poor. His parents, his brother and sister work all day in the fields but it's not paying much. We, we have a few chickens and even a cow which my father found, lost, in the meadow behind our house one day. We even have a small garden plot where my mother grows carrots and wheat.  
>The dishes, all equally delicious as the others, succeed so well that as soon as we finish one plate, another arrives. I never ate that much. I devour lamb, steaks, vegetables, sausages and I even help myself again this pinkish jelly that tastes like wet grass. I lean on my chair, throw my head back and breath of contentment. I could not swallow anything.<p>

But we can not say this of Faun who continues to eat everything he can reach. He literally gobbles up everything that passes before his eyes.  
>"Would you prefer to be advisable together or not? Seeder requests suddenly by cutting a piece of carrot.<br>"Separately," We both answer.  
>I expected this response from Faun but he should not expect mine. He looks at me suspiciously and confused. He must think I am hiding something. And he's right.<br>"And besides, where is Fulia? She should not be here with us and give us some advices, too?" I ask, looking through the glass door behind me, to divert attention.  
>"I have worked with her for two years and I have never seen her dining with me and the Tributes. She dines in his room," replies Seeder.<br>"I'm going to see if she needs something."  
>"Take the opportunity to talk about your strategy", I think. But I believe they do not need me to tell them this as Faun takes a conspirator face before I turn my back.<br>The hallways are narrow and coated with varnish paneling. I realize that I do not even know where is Fulia's room. I navigate between compartments without really knowing where to direct me. I'm glad to find myself a bit alone. I hate those cameras always riveted on me, watching for the slightest flaw. I feel like a lab rat. But I think it's what I am now.

After having oppened almost all the train's doors, I tell myself that Fulia may have jumped out off a window and escaped. But the idea is incongruous. I push yet another beating with little hope of finding her behind.  
>Fulia Maylord eats the same pink jelly that I myself had eaten for dinner. She lifts her tattooed face as I entered.<br>I notice she's crying.  
>"I ... I'm sorry. I should have knock. I did not know you were there."<br>"What do you want?" She asks me with a melancholy tone.  
>"I was looking for you. I'm sorry to have disturbed you."<br>She puts her spoon on the edge of her bowl.  
>" And what is the use for me of an apology from someone who is about to die soon?"<br>Fulia tidies her capillary tower.  
>"Nothing, I guess," I say.<br>"So why are you doing it?"  
>I do not know what to say. I feel stupid all of a sudden. I better go. Leave her alone. This woman won't take care of me or Faun. She does not care whether we will die or survive, have sponsors or not.<p>

"Why were you looking for me?"  
>I swallow and glide a lock of hair still wet from my shower behind my ear.<p>

"I wanted to know if you needed something."  
>"Oh," She says with a smile, "I need lots of things. But I doubt that you can succeed on bringing me them."<br>This is the first time I see her smile. She looks younger.  
>"What's your name again?"<br>"Eila. Eila Nettles, I answer as if the question has not offended me.

Fulia decides that the conversation is over. The hostess of District Eleven dismisses me on part of the coast. I shut the door and ran away.  
>Seeing this woman, who seems so cold and detached from everything, cry have upset me. I turn when I see a corridor and I rush into the smallest spaces. I got lost. I'm out of breath. I let myself slide against a wall and bury my head between my knees. I start to sob. I am saying to myself that I will die. That it's my last days to live. That I would never see Clael or my parents again. That Tama and Perry will remain memories forever. No one will come to save me. No one will hold my hand during my slow death in the Arena. I will die alone. Nobody will hear my last words. I will agonize in suffering. My only prayer is to die peacefully. I hope that neither the twins from District One nor Alabastair will kill me. I know that, them, they will make me suffer. They will enjoy my death and take pleasure in torturing me. I dread to think what I will endure. A louder sob than the other makes me tremble in every limb.<br>"What are you doing here?"  
>I do not raise my head. I did not even hear him coming because of the carpet covering the floor of the train.<br>"Leave me alone," I squeal with a little voice.  
>He grabs me by the shoulder and shakes me vigorously. I give him a killer look. He laughs.<br>"So like that, you can also have this kind of expression?"  
>My eyes shoot lightenings.<br>"You should get angry more often, it suits you."  
>I raise my eyebrows. His cheekbone is still swollen. It looks like it's going to explode at every moment. I extend my hand to his face. My icy fingers touch his burning bruise. He pushes his head away strongly, a blank expression painted on his face.<p>

"I can heal you, if you want," I offer in a breath.  
>"Seeder told me that it would set the tone, once at the Capitol. I will win the reputation of the tough guy, you know."<br>"This is your strategy?"  
>And that would suit him perfectly. His savage appearance, his hair as black as his eyes, his rough face, his square and powerful jaws correspond perfectly with the image he wants to give.<br>"Don't try to trap me. I will tell you nothing about it."  
>"No need too," I say with a smile, "your eyes just confirm that this is it."<br>Faun quickly looks away, as if he was afraid that I can discern anything else in his dark eyes.  
>"I can make you a bandage at least. Just for the trip. This will alleviate the pain a bit. Okay?"<br>He thinks for several minutes. When I suppose that he will refuse my help and send me packing, he agrees, to my astonishment.  
>"I spotted some creams and medicines in my bathroom, I'm sure there will be bandages. Follow me," He tells me.<br>Without a word, he guides me through the maze of corridors. We move silently, without a sound, our feet sinking into the soft carpet.  
>"My Palace," he says, opening the door of his room.<br>It looks just like mine. He sits on the bed and takes off his shoes. I open the closet in the bathroom and take out all kinds of creams I can find and several colorful dressings.

I apply some ointments, only the ones I know the ingredients, on his bruise. He closes his eyes and breathes of pleasure as I gently massage his cheek.

"I didn't know you could have this kind of expression," I say with a smile that he can't see, "you ought to relax more often, it suits you."  
>His lips crease in an amused smile.<br>"Being friendly and nice to me, is also part of your strategy, isn't it?" I gently ask.  
>He does not even try to lie.<br>"Yes. Seeder advices me to do it. It's good for my image."  
>"Green or yellow?"<br>He opens his eye-lid, revealing questioning eyes.  
>"For the dressing, green or yellow?" I repeat.<br>"Those Capitol people..." He grouses, "they could not have normal taste? Go for the green one."  
>I put it slowly and see the result, satisfied.<br>"I'm going to see Seeder, she is probably waiting for me. If ever the pain returns, do not hesitate to put the ointment on it. Good night."  
>And when I close the door without looking back, I feel his eyes on me.<br>I hope that it won't be him neither who will kill me.

Hi ! I hope you liked it. I'm sorry for my mistakes. If you see somes, please tell me.

So about the story, what are your expectations? Your ideas? Your criticism?


	4. Pretty Face and CryBaby

A jolt of the train, more violent than the others, wake me up throwing me on the floor. I'm tangled in my sheets sticky with sweat. I did not even undress for bed. Behind my door, I hear someone who hits the wall quiet hard. There is a moment of silence. Then, Eila knocks on my door before opening it before I give her permission. Anyway, I guess she does not need it.

Her eyes are red from tears or sleep, I do not really know. Her untied hair is so tangled that it looks like several bird nests built into each other. Wispy curls stick up on her head. Her nose is red. So, it is really her that the train's shock has made hit my door. She looks ridiculous.  
>When she sees me, her misty eyes wake up and she bursts into a crystalline laughter.<br>"What? What makes you laugh?" I growl with a half awake voice.  
>"If you could see you," she giggles, "you look like a big silkworm."<br>It is the first time that someone compared me with a silkworm.  
>"And you, you look like a zombie. Or no, the village madwoman. You know, the one that hosts the pigeons in her room," I retort in an acid tone.<br>She raises her eyes to heaven and tries to take an outraged face but the shadow of a smile floats on her lips. By paying attention, she really looks like the crazy old woman of the village. Because of the hair, especially. Eila approaches me and begins to help me extricate myself from my prison of blankets. I would like to reject her and tell her that I do not need her. I really want to. But I can't. I have promised Seeder that I would try my best to be friendly with her. Or at least nice. Eila had discovered all at once. She is much more observant than she tries to appear. Or maybe it is me who is not very good. I won't be really surprised. I don't like acting.  
>Finally got rid of my sheets, I get up, stretching. Eila approaches me and unsticks my bandage off to see what my bruise looks like. By pure reflex, I push her back. She almost collapses against the dresser but recovers just in time.<p>

"Have I hurt you?" she asks me anxiously.  
>But she focuses on Fulia Maylord as she crosses the corridor at that time. The hostess does not give us a look and continues her way to the compartment where we had dinner. I wonder if she will take breakfast with us. Eila watches her go. An anxious wrinkle streaks her forehead. I do not understand her troubled look.<br>A ridiculously loud gurgling sound escapes from my stomach. I am doing the one who has not heard but Eila grabs me by the arm, any tension evaporated from her face, and draws me to the lounge car where an impressive breakfast awaits us. I ate at dinner so much that my stomach had tortured me much of the night. But I don't regret it. I even think that if it had still steak, I would second helping.  
>"Good morning", Seeder welcomes us with a warm smile.<br>She exchanges a glance with Eila who observes her from the corner of her eye as she sat down at her right. This girl, she is hiding something. I thought that she was stupid, thoughtless and whining, well, I was wrong for at least the first two. She has a few trick up her sleeve. I think I hate her even more now that I know her being vicious and manipulative. I'll beware of her big innocent eyes. She keeps her cards hidden pretty well behind her poor unfortunate look.  
>Fulia stares at her coffee with a neutral face. I'm surprised to see her eat. So this woman is really human? This is not a robot sent from the Capitol? She may has primary needs like us but I doubt she has feelings.<p>

Through the window, the landscape scrolls at high speed. Eila is fascinated by the spectacle. I want to look at her as the stupid girl from yesterday but in view of the recent revelations about her, I can only observe her with suspicious eyes. Who knows what's going on under her tousled hair? I'm almost sure to hear her brain thinking at full speed.  
>The smell of hot pastries reminds me of my duty: eat everything I see. I had seen pastries at the bakery, on the village place, but I had never touched one. I swallow a half of a bread with raisins and an egg in three minutes. While my face is leaning on my plate, I notice Eila watching me with tender eyes. I feel like a too greedy child that has just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar by a loving mother. I want to remove that facial expression. It makes me want to vomit.<p>

"What?" I ask my mouth full of hot little cakes.  
>She seems to end her daydream and shakes her head, smiling.<br>"You remind me of my brother, Clael. He eats, well devores, like you. You know him? He works in the same field as you."  
>For knowing him, I know him. He is the one who has rearanged my face.<br>"I may have seen hom, once or twice," I reply, shrugging with of a blasé attitude.  
>I drink my coffee and and end up choking and tossing. It's so bitter that I wince. Fulia looks up at me and raises a questioningly eyebrow. Her face can take other expressions that neutrality? Gosh. I swallow with difficulty, but I end up swallowing the rest of my coffee. I heard that it woke you up. And I need it.<br>"Eila," Calls Seeder in a serious voice, "you really, _really_ have to do something with your hair."  
>"Oh," she responds with an embarrassed look, "it's not as if I was not trying. It is impossible to comb it. I do not even count the number of comb that I broke. I have only remake one for the Reaping, just to look presentable but otherwise I leave it like that and I tie them up."<br>I listen carefully and note the fact that she _redid_ her comb and not _rebuy_ it. Which means she can do something else than observe and cry. Interesting.  
>"You can't stay like that. If ever the people of the Capitol see you when you get out of the train, I do not imagine their reaction. Your image would take a hit. The first impression is very important. You must seem civilized."<br>"But now, they would say that you leave in a cave that you share with wolves," I grind with an evil smile.

Seeder frowns at me. I become a child again for the second time in three minutes.  
>"I know, I know all of this is important. I'll try to do something. I will try my best but it is not won.<br>"There is everything you need in your bathroom, do not hesitate. Do what you can, your designers will do the rest."  
>"And they will have a lot on their plate," I whisper to myself.<br>"You have to make people want to love you," Seeder continues, "and believe me, they prefer those who do not look like savages. I'm sorry if I offended you but I really want to give you all your chances."  
>Our mentor throw her amiable woman mask in the trash. Her golden eyes are lit with a new light. Determination and concentration. I believe her when she says she will try everything to make one of us win.<br>Eila nods, grabs two toast and begins to nibble it while she disappears down the hall after casting a glance at Fulia who is drinking her fourth cup of coffee.  
>"You too, you should go take a shower," Seeder advises me, knitting her nose, "you stinking sweat."<br>I think I preferred the sweet Seeder. I know she told me that in the unique purpose of getting rid of me for having a conversation with Fulia.

I eat two or three slices of bacon dripping with fat and get up without a word. The hostess of the District Eleven and our mentor look at eachother. They seem to try to ask questions mentally. I know that once I'm gone, the discussion will take place between those two. They will talk about things that I do not need to know. I sincerely, I prefer not to know.  
>I do not like this train. The corridors are too narrow. The smell of varnish too strong. And my room is too tidy. But I think I will hate anything that will come from the Capitol. And it's logical.<br>I look at the mirror in my bathroom. I had never considered me as handsome. Yet Seeder had told me that once I will arrive at the Capitol, half of the girls will run after me. I had to play with it. Be the dark and mysterious man to torture those ladies's heart. That thought makes me laugh. If they come to believe that, they are really silly.  
>I take off the dressing. My cheekbone has deflated. But the bruise is not gone. Perfect. New mental note: Eila is good to heal. She knows ointments and their ingredients. Maybe having the care of her mother the days after her accident has help her.<p>

The cold water's shower gives me a boost. Unless the coffee begins to take effect. Or both. I can not help thinking about my family. At the moment, they must all laboring in the fields under the gentle morning sun. The afternoon will be much worse. The rays will burn their skin and make them nauseous. I even think about Clael who must also work hard. The day will be long, for them and for me.  
>I feel much better once washed. I am refreshed and ready to rock the heart of the Capitol women. I remember what Seeder said to me. I must seem dark, inaccessible and unconquerable. Easy to say. I'm laughing again.<br>"You laugh alone?"  
>Eila is again in my room. But this time she doesn't knock. Her hair tumbled in heavy curls behind her back. Nothing to do with the wig of this morning.<br>"Ah! Exclaims she sees my injury, it is good! It still hurt you?"  
>I realize that I no longer feel any pain. What she could have put on it?<br>"No. At all."  
>"I am reassured. And look, the bruise is still here to remind people that you are a fighter. Perfect, right?"<br>I nod. She is so pleased with herself, or at least with her "artwork" that I can not help thinking that she has calculated everything.

We are suddenly surprised by the darkening of the room. We both rush to the window and notice that it is pitch black outside.  
>"The Capitol's tunnel," Eila whispers both terrified and stunned.<br>The train picks up speed. Knowing me buried under tons of rocks makes me uncomfortable. I notice that Eila is not feeling well either. We're used to fresh air, wide open spaces and fields of sight. I do not like feeling me trapped. It's like I was buried alive.  
>We do not say a word until finally, the light returns. She is so blinding and sparkling that it burns my eyes. I fold my eyes and put my hand as a visor.<br>The Capitol.  
>I had seen it several times on television, but I would have never expected so much pomp and luxury. The first thing I see are the towers, so tall that they seem to scrape the sky and tickle the clouds. They are painted with pure white, reflecting the sun. Translucent buildings, smaller than the towers, but equally impressive overlook us. Through the windows, I can see patches of bright colors waving. Probably people. Speaking of people, I note that under our windows, residents of the Capitol are pointing us with their fingers and shout. I give a nudge in Eila's ribs and show her the agitated onlookers. Some of them have made banners where it is written with large yellow and orange letters: District Eleven. We already have fans? I am impressed by the efficiency of Seeder. Eila shyly waves her hand causing hysterical screams from the crowd. I did not think we could love her so much.<p>

But unfortunately for them, we enter the station and we disappear from their sight. I am surprised that the hall is empty. Completely empty. There is not a living soul here. Only a few cameras floating around, just not to miss anything.  
>Fulia picks us up. I do not know why but I expected that it would be Seeder. Or yes, I know why. Fulia doesn't care about us at all.<br>"Your hair is much better."  
>I think that Eila is as surprised as me by this sudden compliment.<br>Seeder awaits us at the door by which we were forced to enter, there is barely more than a day. She rapidly inspects us. I move back when she sniffs my shoulder.  
>"Good, you took a shower. Bravo for your hair, Eila. You're fine. They will adore you. And I think they already love you," she says with a big smile and a wink.<br>Eila blushes of pleasure in the compliments. It exasperates me. I would like to ask our mentor how she gets the Capitol's inhabitants on their good side but the train's door opens silently. Seeder comes first followed by Eila, me and finally Fulia bringing up the rear.  
>The station is impeccably clean. Large wrought iron columns hold a painted ceiling where colorful arabesques intertwined in an endless dance. Strangely, the ground is not colored as I expected, but covered with black and white tiles. As a giant chessboard. Perhaps to remind us that we are only pawns in tha Capitol's hand.<br>I hear a growl on my right.  
>Alabastair looks at us with his little pig eyes bundled up in their orbits. An evil smile slice his face. I then discovered with astonishment that all the tributes are moving forward towards the door where their number is registered District. Squads of Peacekeepers are there to remind us that every fight is prohibited.<br>"Eh Pretty Face and Cry-Baby!"  
>I understand that the ogre is talking to me and Eila.<p>

"I will kill you first," he smiles, "and I will do necklaces with your guts!"  
>He bursts into a thunderous laughter that could shake the station.<br>We perhaps have no right to fight but intimidation seems to be permitted.  
>And I must say that to be threatened with death by a giant of two meters and one hundred and ten pounds is enough to give you shivers.<p>

Hello! Thank you for reading my story. What do you think of it ? What do you think will happen to Eila and Faun ? Leave a comment!

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